


2. Let 'Em In

by Kaleidograph



Series: Ghost Stories [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (Movies)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:53:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaleidograph/pseuds/Kaleidograph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Janine struggles with the loss of her husband. Marie finds that her old habits die hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2. Let 'Em In

_The only good thing about being here, Marie thought, is that my running path is still the same._

Marie tightened the laces of her turquoise sneakers, slipped her earphones in, pressed play, and started on her run up Central Park West. Every morning, she would wake up at 6:30 and go for a run. Back home in Florida, she usually ran on the beach with her dog, sometimes stopping in to visit her grandma Sylvia, who only lived a few blocks away. Here in the city, it was chemicals and smog and bitter cold—she missed the salt air of Florida, that hot, soupy air, white sands, clear skies and clearer waters. 

Running gave her time to either immerse herself in her thoughts, or to escape them, depending on the mood du jour. This time, she wasn’t sure whether to go inside herself and really think things over, or block everything away. The night before, her world had been rocked when it was made clear that her stepfather had named her heiress to the company he helped found, and he had intended for her to continue on with his research, even though it had been six years since she had even touched anything relating to paranormal investigations. Of course, she didn’t intend to collect this inheritance. Marie was content to live her life back home in Florida, where it was sunny and warm and she loved her job in the Emergency Room. This place wasn’t for her anymore. 

Full immersion seemed to be the name of the game today. 

When it began to rain, Marie stopped for a bite of breakfast at the grocery store downstairs from the condo and headed back upstairs. She knew she needed to be dressed and ready to go by 9:30, but she didn’t have the motivation to do anything of the sort. 

Finally around 8:45 she decided to make herself presentable. A lace tea-length black dress with a sensible belt seemed appropriate for the day. Her black Toms were the only other pair of shoes she bothered to pack, aside from her running shoes. Makeup on… hair dealt with as best as her black locks could be… Outwardly, she looked the part of someone who really was handling things with ease and grace.

Inside, she was screaming.  
  
****************************   
  
Janine Spengler’s morning began with a rude awakening when Marie’s alarm rang at 0530.

“Babe, could you get---“she began, momentarily forgetting that her husband was, in fact, not in bed with her. She would be seeing him later this morning, but it was not in a way she had ever wanted to. She poured herself out of bed, into the shower, and drifted into the kitchen. It was hard not waking up to the smell of coffee or the sound of some loud banging coming from the kitchen. An emptiness unlike any she had ever experienced before filled the halls of the house. Throwing a cup into the Keurig, Janine cut the television on and tried to keep her thoughts occupied with the Today Show—but it didn’t help. She’d still find her mind wandering back to his face, looking back down the hallway just to make sure he wasn’t still sleeping, that she hadn’t made some egregious error and overlooked him. 

Nothing.

When Marie rushed in with breakfast, Janine jumped nearly a mile out of her own skin.  
“You scared the bejesus out of me!”  
“Sorry! I got breakfast,” Marie tittered, as if her provision of foodstuffs would excuse her transgression—which it did.  
“You angel.”  
“Well, I figured you weren’t up for cooking. I brought us some waffles.”  
“That’s sweet.”  
Janine kept glancing down the hallway, and Marie didn’t need to ask why. She knew, because she had found herself doing it too. The slightest noise, anything—both of them were on a hair trigger, waiting for him to come out of the bedroom. 

Nothing. 

Marie and Janine exchanged a wistful glance. Tears welled in Janine’s eyes, but she held it in.  
“It happened here, didn’t it?” Marie asked her mother, who was doing her best to keep it together, but even her best wasn’t very much at this point.  
“Yeah, it did.”  
“I knew he wasn’t in good shape when he came to visit a few months back, but I didn’t—“Marie started, but Janine cut her off.  
“He came to see you?” In that moment, Marie realized what a sore subject was being approached, but they needed to tackle it head-on.  
“I mean, he came to Florida for the conference about two months ago. He stopped by the house, we spent the day together. You didn’t know?”  
“No. I mean, I had a feeling he would. I’m glad he did.”

Both Janine and Marie realized why he had gone to Florida two months prior—he had come to say goodbye to Marie. She remembered that day as if it were yesterday; he had surprised her at the door as she was preparing to go for her morning run, took her to breakfast, she showed him her favorite spot on the beach, where they sat and talked for most of the day before migrating back to her house, where they sat by the fire pit, and just relaxed. Not once did he ever let on that he was sick, but Marie noticed something wasn’t right when she saw Egon walk with a slight limp. She didn’t press the matter, figuring he had rolled his ankle or some such injury. 

Janine wasn’t ready for this. She retreated to her bedroom, mentally preparing herself for later this afternoon. She twisted the ring on her finger—the one that had been on it since 1995—it was what she did when she got nervous. A wave of nauseating fear rippled through her, and she sat down on the foot of the bed, wanting to reach for him. Nobody was there. Just as she was reaching for her phone, it rang.

“Hello? Oh, good, I’m glad you made it here alright. 

************************

 

“Ryan, we’re going to be late. The thing starts at ten, come on, let’s go!” Ray hollered up the stairs, but Ryan stood in her bedroom, frozen in front of the mirror. It had finally set in for her.  
Thirteen years ago, Ryan’s own mother had passed away. She still remembered the wake and funeral as if they had only happened yesterday. She remembered the feeling of numbness and uncertainty, as she just remained silently watching, waiting, hoping, praying. Today was no different.  
Ray, noticing his daughter had not come downstairs yet, felt the need to check on her. He peered around the corner into her bedroom, where Ryan stood, stock-still, facing the mirror, cupping her hands just below her ribcage.  
“It’s okay to cry. Save your tears, they’ll be valuable. I think there’s an empty bottle somewhere in—“Ray began, rummaging around Ryan’s desk for an empty vial. She stopped him mid-sentence.  
“I don’t want to go.”  
“You don’t have to go, Ryan. If it hurts you too much, you don’t have to go.”  
“I’ll keep the shop open if you want.”  
“No, let’s close up for the day. Stay home. I know how much it hurts, baby. I truly do. I never wanted you to go through this again.”  
Ryan sighed and flopped down into her corner nook, a veritable hidey-hole that she called her own—really it was just a closet that Ray had renovated into a book nook for Ryan some years ago, but she felt safest there.  
Not going to the funeral would make waves, she was certain of that much. Marie would be heartbroken. Oscar would worry. Ryan felt like a terrible letdown, but the paralyzing fear of seeing someone she loved so much lying still, unliving—it was overwhelming. She couldn’t.

 

 

****************************

Marie sat frighteningly still during the entire funeral, until it was her turn to talk. As she made her way to the lectern, her legs wobbled as if they were made of jelly. She could not bear to look at his face. 

“I wasn’t ready for this, I’m sorry,” she choked. A massive crowd before her filled the seats, a blend of colleagues, family, some friends, but in the front were the ones she knew and cared about the most, all save two, and she focused her attentions to them, ignoring the crowd. Ray nodded gently and gave Marie a smile and a thumbs-up. She bleakly smiled back, and noticed Dr. Venkman mouthing the words "You can do this" to her.

“Thank you all for being here today. This is not a day I ever wanted to see, but here it is. Such is the natural order of things. Egon Spengler isn’t my natural father—but seeing as much as he loved me, I don't think anyone would have ever been the wiser. The day I was born, I nearly died. It is because of this man and his quick thinking that my mother and I are alive today. I was born eight weeks prematurely, and he stayed in the NICU with me like a sentry at my bedside. Sixteen years later, when I was learning how to drive, I may have crashed his car into a city bus and cried about it for three hours. He comforted me—and then he punished me—but then he comforted me even more. These are the things a father does for his children. And I am going to leave here knowing that I had the best father there could have possibly ever been. Egon Spengler, I love you so much and I’ll always be your girl.”

By the end of her speech, not a single eye in the house was left dry. When Marie’s watery eyes scanned the crowd, they met with another pair of watery eyes, a tuft of black hair, wide spectacles, and a strong Roman nose. Her jaw fell open slightly and her gaze turned into a glare, as she had never seen this face before, yet in the back of her mind, she felt a familiarity. A connection. She had to know who the hell she was staring at. As Marie stepped off the podium, she turned to look at the casket and lay her last gifts down. She leaned into the sleek silver case and stroked the cold, chalky hand. 

“I’ll see you when I get there. Save a spot for me and mom. And say hi to everyone for me.” Marie gently placed a small piece of paper in the breast pocket of his suit, smiled, stroked his hair, and started away. 

Once far away enough from the commotion of condolences, Oscar and Ryan finally caught up to a breathless Marie, who had placed herself adjacent to a coat closet in the furthest corner of the funeral home, far from the crowd of people. Ryan, who had been waiting in the sitting room this entire time, offered a hug and a breath mint.  
“When they held the service for my mom, I ate these the whole time. Now I can’t even smell mint without wanting to gag.” Marie laughed. The young man from the crowd was a mere twenty feet behind Oscar. Marie squinted, then asked “Who is he?”

“Introduced himself as Alan. Do you know him?” Oscar shrugged, hoping Marie's next move wasn't going to be a rash one.  
“No. But I’m going to find out.” 

As if she were guided by a laser, Marie darted through the crowd to place herself directly face to face with this strange guest.

“Do I know you?” she spat, as if the young man's presence was offensive to her.  
“Beg pardon?”  
“It’s a simple enough question. Do I know you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then who are you?”  
“Alan. Alan Spengler.”

Again, Marie’s jaw made friends with the floor. No sooner had the words escaped his mouth, Janine placed her long, soft hands on both of their shoulders.  
“Marie, you remember Alan? Egon’s great-nephew. Just came in from Ohio. I think the last time you two saw each other you were no more than five.”  
“Spengler?”  
“Yes, my father is Egon’s nephew Erwin. I believe the last time we met, Marie, you had a marshmallow up one nostril and silly string in your eyes.”

Marie felt the blood boiling underneath her skin. Oscar attempted to lead her away, but she broke free of his grasp. A blank look came over her face.  
“I am… going to go self-medicate with vodka now. If you care to join, you know where to find me.”


End file.
